Oddballs
by TheLonelyBlonde
Summary: Sherlock and Mycroft's story of their childhood, with some crime along the way ;). eventual mystrade
1. Maths

The dark, disapproving eyes of seventeen-year-old Mycroft Holmes unnerve Sherlock- who is squirming in the white chair at the dining table; his short legs not quite reaching the ground.

"_Why _did you call me in here? I am very busy, Sherlock, you must understand. What could be _so _important?" Mycroft's fatherly tone makes Sherlock even more nervous; an angry Mycroft is not a force to be reckoned with.

"Math homework?" Sherlock tries. Mycroft makes a face of slight annoyance but sits in the chair parallel to the dark-haired child. Sherlock's older brother is always there to help him and guide him along, but today Sherlock knew something was up. This time he had _really _pushed his buttons.

"Sherlock. Next year I'm moving out, you realize. You will help you with your homework then? You need to learn to help yourself." Sherlock puts his head down, and several black locks of hair bounce in reply. "I'm not saying I won't help you now, Sherlock. Let's see what we have here..." Mycroft examines the paper – basic equations showing the order of operations are presented in the nicest possible fashion to make third-graders feel comfortable, so different than Mycroft's advanced college textbook he's borrowing from the local library. Oddballs like Sherlock and Mycroft aren't respected, he suddenly realizes. While Mycroft hasn't been directly teased, he sees girls in denim shorts and lip gloss snicker at that one boy, the one who dresses older than his age, the one that always gets straight A's, that walking encyclopedia boy. Sherlock often comes home with cuts and bruises. Poor little Sherlock, too smart for his own good. He can't help but share his excitement to other people. Mycroft can't recall a single friend either of them have had. It's always just been them- Sherlock and Mycroft, the Holmes brothers. The oddballs.


	2. The Call

Sherlock gently tugs at the stiff fabric of Mycroft's dress shirt pleadingly.

"Mycroft, are you okay? You look…" Sherlock hesitates to wave his hand in front of his older brother's face. "Spacey."

"Hm? Oh, yes I was, um, thinking." Mycroft puts on a handsome fake smile as he racks his memories for anyone, _anyone, _who had showed him any respect.

"About my maths homework?" Sherlock giggles.

"Yes, about your maths homework," Sherlock's giggle instantly warms Mycroft's heart. He gently ruffles Sherlock's hair. "When I was learning this type of maths, there was an acronym that helped me memorize the order of operations," he starts to explain.

"What is an acronym?" Sherlock's young brain strives for information.

"An acronym is a word that stands for something, like what I was about to explain – PEMDAS is Please Excuse My Dear Aunt Sally, which stands for parentheses, exponents, multiplication, division –" Mycroft's mobile begins to ring. It cost him a lot of money, but it wasn't really worth it. It was big, and bulky, and didn't fit into his pocket well. He rarely got calls – when he did they were usually from his mum or grandmum, or, in some cases, his insane neighbor that had a crush on him since kindergarten. But this call was from an unknown number.

"Hello?"


	3. Wainright

The boy on the other line is breathing raggedly, and sounds scared.

"Is this Mycroft Holmes?"

"Yes, who is this? Is everything alright?" Mycroft is intrigued, but worried.

"It's Gregory Lestrade," the boy says. "We sit together in fourth hour." Gregory Lestrade. He's always been quiet, sort of reserved. H_e's sort of handsome_, Mycroft thinks. _Wait, what? _"I'm okay, but something has happened. You're really smart, so...so I thought you could help. Bring your brother, too. I'm on Wainright Street," Gregory says. "Please, Mycroft, hurry." He disconnected.

_Gregory has never called or talked to me before, but he knows about Sherlock. Do we have a stalker on our hands? _Nevertheless, Mycroft grabs his jacket and nudges Sherlock.

"We need to go, Sherlock. Something has happened. We'll do maths later. Now, go get your coat." Sherlock has a face filled with an expression of pure worry.

"Why are we in a hurry? Who is Gregory? Is he okay? What happened?"

"We'll see, Sherlock! I think someone is hurt."

The Holmes sprint down to Wainright, which is only 3 blocks away from their house. Despite the popular opinion, Mycroft is very fast- it takes the boys only a few minutes to reach the corner. The cold bareness of the street unnerves Mycroft- the crumbling stone buildings, the lack of streetlights- but most of all, what is happening- Gregory Lestrade, the sweet, quiet boy that he sits next to in fourth hour is crying, over a _body. _Mycroft doesn't think of his own safety. He thinks of Sherlock. _Oh, Sherlock, poor Sherlock. He'll be scarred for life. _Before rushing over to Gregory, Mycroft bends down to reach Sherlock's eye level. The poor nine year old is sobbing over the awful sight of the blood, and the crying, and...  
"Sherlock." Mycroft uses a sweet, happy tone. He puts on a brave smile. "Sherlock, I want you to go sit on that bench. And don't move. Okay?" Mycroft hands his little brother the book he's been reading, 1984, and kisses his forehead. Sherlock nods weakly and retreats to the bench.

"Gregory! Are you alright!"


	4. Sherlock's First Deduction

"Gregory?" Mycroft kindly puts a hand on the boy's shoulder. Mycroft hasn't realised it, but he is quite handsome – black hair, dark eyes, a square jaw – _Oh my god, am I turning gay? _

_ "_I'm fine," he says over sniffles. "But this man isn't. I was walking to the grocery store and I heard shots. He got shot, three times in the head, _and I didn't do anything _to stop it." The Lestrade boy begins to cry harder. Mycroft's eyebrows furrow with worry.

"What could you have done? It's alright." Mycroft bends down to the body, completely unfazed. He has never cried in his life (other than when he was a baby, of course), not because he wants to look cool, or be badass, or anything like that – he just hasn't had a need to. This is no exception. Three shots to the head, alright. Probably was a 10 millimeter pistol..Mycroft was no firearms enthusiast, but he had shot a gun on several occasions, and these bullets looked like the same caliber Mycroft used. A thought occurred to him.

"Greg, why didn't you just call the police?" Greg turns red and he stammers.

"I-I didn't think of that," he admits. "I just got your number, and you're really smart. So it occurred to me that...you might meet me here and...I don't know...solve the mystery...and I did call them, about 4 minutes before you got here." Gregory was looking down, but for a moment their dark eyes met. Gregory was so..._gorgeous. _His eyes practically bored into Mycroft's so-

"Sorry to ruin the moment," Sherlock said, appearing out of nowhere. "But I've made a couple of deductions." Mycroft is aghast.

"Sherlock Holmes! I told you to not get involved in this! I was about to call the coppers!" Sherlock was completely unfazed my Mycroft's harsh tone and continued. He walked to the body, no tears on his face, no worry in his pale eyes.

"Three shots by a 10 mm pistol, just like the one you use, Mycroft. The man was on his way to the grocery store, just like you, Gregory. See? Hand in his pockets, like he was grabbing out his wallet. Also, the man who shot him was not very good, not trained. See how the bullet holes are all over his head, and the third is close to his neck. We're not looking for a trained assassin here," Sherlock continues, showing no sign of stopping. "We're looking for someone who was driven by emotion, by _revenge." _A smile spreads across Sherlock's youthful face. "An ex-girlfriend."

Mycroft and Gregory turn to each other. _What?_


	5. Shock Blanket

The three boys hear the loud, clear sound of police sirens. Sherlock is still kneeling over the body, finding deductions, Mycroft presumes. Gregory is still crying, but Mycroft has a friendly hand across his shoulder. Once the police park at the corner, Mycroft strolls up to them confidently.

"Hello sir," Mycroft uses such a grown-up voice there's no doubt the coppers will mistake him for at least a twenty-year-old. "I'm Mycroft Holmes. My friend Gregory Lestrade here was walking to the grocery store, when this man got shot right in front of him-" The policeman, a big burly man of around thirty-five, just shoved past Mycroft, who put his hands on his hips and makes a face.

"Sir!" He ignores Mycroft once more.

"Why is this boy looking at the body? He'll mess up the evidence!"  
"No, actually, I won't," Sherlock says bravely. "I've already solved half of the crime for you. Here are the important bits: these shots were made by a 10 mm pistol, just like the one by brother carries around-"  
"Sherlock!" Mycroft narrows his eyes at his little brother.

"Mycroft!" He mocks. "Anyway, the way the shots are placed on his head – one close to the top of the head, one in the middle, one near the neck, you _know _that the killer must have been untrained, maybe to a class or two, and she must've been across the street, in those bushes. She was driven by an emotion, like revenge. Find out if this man has broken up with anyone recently, and interrogate his ex-girlfriend. Most likely she'll crack under the pressure." The big police officer is agape.

"How did you-"  
"Ah, I simply made deductions," Sherlock says. He walks over to his brother and hugs him tightly.

"What was that for?"

"You took me to a crime scene!"  
"Oh, I _am _starting to regret this..." Suddenly a paramedic lady with a kind face places an orange blanket around Sherlock's shoulders.

"Oh, dear, You must be in shock!" She runs off.

"Hey, why don't _I _get a shock blanket?" Mycroft tries to take the blanket from his little brother.

Defensively he swats Mycroft's hand away and sticks out his bottom lip.

"My shock blankie!"

**hehe... study in pink foreshadowing :P**


	6. Fourth Hour

"Thank you for coming, Mycroft. I knew you could help," Greg looks up at Mycroft, who has his hands placed nervously in his pockets.

"No problem, I'm just sorry my brother butted in like that."

"Oi, that was brilliant though! Never seen anything like it." Mycroft feels pride swell in his chest; he did basically raise Sherlock. _Oh wow, is Greg ever so good-looking! Alright, I don't care if I'm straight. I'm going to do this. _

"You should tell your girlfriend this story, girlfriends love interesting stories," Mycroft says, trying to bring up relationships.

"Er...actually, girlfriends aren't really...my division." Greg smiles sheepishly, looking at his shoes. Mycroft gets the notion, and can barely contain his glee.

"Hm. Yeah...not really mine either."

"Oh, good- er, I mean, that's cool. Hey, Mycroft, maybe we could hang out sometime? You know, just you and me? Sorry we haven't really talked before, other than, you know, fourth hour." Mycroft smiles, a real, genuine, Holmes smile, and replies, "That would be fantastic. I have to go now, though, Sherlock really needs to get into bed."

"Alright, see you in fourth hour," Greg smiles, and before Mycroft walks off he kisses his cheek gently, just a peck. Mycroft practically flutters over to Sherlock, beaming, while he grabs his brother's hand to cross the street.

"My, why are you all...smiley?" Giggling, Mycroft replies, "Stuff."


	7. Love is Love

"Mycroft, would you read me a book?" Mycroft tucks the white sheet under Sherlock's pale chin and frowns.

"Sherlock, please, I have a lot of work to-oh Sherlock, don't give me that look!"

"What look, My?" The nine year old sticks out his lower lip to add to the cuteness.

"That adorable face! If you stop I'll read you my chemistry book, I swear."

"Yay!" Sherlock squeals with delight. Mycroft runs into his room and pulls out the bulky textbook. _Ah, chemistry. Fourth hour. Gregory is in that class. Oi, I guess I am gay. That boy... _

"You're getting that spacey look again!" Sherlock shouts.

"Huh? Oh, sorry."  
"Mycroft Holmes, you _like _someone! I can tell!"

"Sherlock, that's a silly idea. Now be quiet so I can read to you about the periodic table," Mycroft says in a fatherly tone.

"Fine..." Sherlock stares at Mycroft, green eyes imploring. Mycroft opens the textbook, but has the dwelling thought of Greg on his mind.

"Sherlock, can you keep a secret?" Sherlock sits up in bed, excited.

"Can I ever!"

"I do like someone, but they aren't a girl."

"Huh? But I thought only girls and boys could make babi-"

"Geez, Sherlock, I don't want to get into that. The point is, some boys like boys, and some girls like girls. Do you understand?"

"Yeah...kind of...so you're a boy that likes a boy?"

"I'm afraid I am."

"Afraid? Why would you be ashamed of that? Love is love, right?" Mycroft smiles and kisses Sherlock's forehead.

"Love is love, you are right. Now, would you like to hear about the noble gases?"


	8. I'm Getting Bored

The next day was like pure bliss to Mycroft. In fourth hour, Greg and Mycroft passed notes. Greg wrote the first one.

_Any idea of what you would like to do tonight? GL_

_My mum is out tonight, so I have to watch Sherlock :( MH_

_That's okay, we'll work something out. I could come over to your place, we could watch movies, order chinese...? GL  
Sounds great, I'll just have to find a distraction for Sherlock. I could probably get his friend John to come over. MH_

_I'm super excited :) GL_

_Me too! MH_

They even sat together at lunch and talked. Mycroft liked having a friend for a change; he did have Sherlock, but he was eight years his junior and, well, his annoying little brother. On the walk home from school Sherlock kept talking about a bully in his class named Jimmy, who threatened another student. He sounded pretty flustered, so Mycroft decided to tell him good news.

"Do you want to have John come over tonight?"

"Oo! Sure! I sat with him at lunch today, and I told him about my deductions," Sherlock said. "I think he kind of understands me."  
"That's great, Sherlock. I'll call his mum when we get home." Sherlock grabbed onto Mycroft.

"Thanks My."

When they got home, Mycroft tidied up the house. He dusted bookshelves, he cleaned the counters, made the bed. He also called John's house, but a young girl answered.

"Hullo, this is Harry Watson. Who are you?"

"Uh, I'm Mycroft Holmes, Sherlock's older brother. Can I speak with your mum?

"I dunno, can you? Just kiddin', I'll go get 'er." Moments later John's mom is on the phone.

"Hi, I'm Mycroft Holmes, Sherlock's older brother. I was wondering if John wanted to have a sleepover with Sherlock."

"Yep, he does. I'll send him over right now, is that okay?"

"Yes ma'am, thank you." Next thing, his moblie is ringing.

"Hey, Mycroft. Can I come early? I don't have much to do."

"Sure, I'm just about to order take-away. Bring some good movies!"

"Alright, bye!" Smiling to himself, Mycroft answers the door to Sherlock's little friend John.

"Sherlock is in his room, at the end of the hall."

"Thanks mister!" John ran to Sherlock. _Oh, Gregory, show up soon. I'm getting bored..._


	9. Run, Doctor, Run!

The doorbell rings, and Mycroft opens the door to a smiling Lestrade, who is holding a VHS tape in his hand.

"I hope you like Doctor Who," Greg says.

"I love Doctor Who! Hey, I just ordered the food, it should be here soon. Let's go to my room, the telly's in there," Mycroft says happily. As they head to the bedroom, John and Sherlock are in their room playing with pirate action figures.

"Argh! I'm Cap'n Watson, you can't defeat me! Walk the plank, Holmes!" John pushes Sherlock's toy pirate over his dresser.

"Oi, Cap'n Watson, I faked my own death! Bwhaha!" John and Sherlock laugh.

"Hey, Sherlock, I'm getting pretty hungry. Are you?"

"Yeah, I'll go ask Mycroft for some food, wait a second," he says. As he heads to Mycroft's room, it doesn't cross his mind he would be scarred for life.

"My, I'm hungry, is there an-" Mycroft and Greg are splayed out on the bed, and Greg is wearing just an undershirt, his trousers being unbuttoned by Mycroft. They are passionately kissing, and Greg is pulling on Mycroft's striped tie. Mycroft is wearing umbrella print boxers. Mycroft notices someone in the doorway and turns around to Sherlock.

"Ah! What-I-Sherlock!" Greg is buttoning his trousers and blushing madly while Mycroft does nothing in defense. He puts on a brave smile.

"I mean, what is it, Sherlock?"

"Nothing..." and he runs back to his room. Mycroft turns to Greg, who says, "Wow, that was awkward. I hope you can explain that." Mycroft grins widely.

"Oh, I'm great at explaining." He plants a kiss on Greg's lips and snuggles up to him.

"Now, I think we should finish this episode, Greg."  
"Yeah, if I can stay focused that long," the schoolboys giggle as they watch the Doctor run for the TARDIS.


	10. That Kind of Love

Mycroft wakes in the morning curled in Greg's arms. He squints at the clock, the neon red numbers hard to focus on. 6:45, they read. _Damn, why do I always wake up so early? _He looks to Greg, smiling peacefully in his sleep. He looks so serene and young. Mycroft smirks at the thought of last night, but cringes at the thought of explaining the situation to Sherlock. He remembers their chat before- _Love is love. _But explaining the prospect of _that_ kind of love to Sherlock kind of scares him, to be honest.

Sherlock looks to John in the bed next to him. His hair is wildly disheveled and instead of being centered in the bed, he's laying very close to the edge, almost to the wall. Sherlock hasn't ever had a friend like John before, all other children his age call him creepy and a freak. But John admires his intellectual ability, and says so quite a lot. Craving a cup of tea, Sherlock leaves the room carefully, not wanting to wake his best friend. Much to his surprise, Mycroft is already there.

"Good morning, Sherly. Want some tea?"

"Sure." Mycroft pours the boiling water into a polka-doted red mug and puts in a teabag.

"Thanks, My."  
"You're welcome." Mycroft takes a seat and motions for Sherlock to do as well. "Sherlock, about last night..." Sherlock makes a face, and Mycroft has to hold back giggles. "When people love each other, they kiss. Sometimes for a long time. Like Mummy and Daddy, if you remember when Daddy was still around." Mycroft heart drops when he sees the expression Sherlock makes. But then Sherlock laughs.

"Oh, My, I already know what you were doing. John's sister Harry told him about all that stuff and so he told me," he says, finishing the last of his tea. Mycroft stares at his little brother.

"Okay..." Sherlock leaves the room and returns to John. Mycroft puts his mug in the sink and walks quietly back into his room. Greg is still asleep. Mycroft jumps onto the bed and snuggles back into his arms. He grabs 1984 from his bedside table. Greg makes a noise and pushes his place into the pillow. Mycroft smiles. There's no denying he's gay now. He's got Greg. Gregory Lestrade, the sweet, quiet boy in fourth hour. He's glad Sherlock understands, maybe a little shocked that he found out like that, but nonetheless relieved. He's also glad Sherlock has a new friend- it seems like he's never had someone to go to; really; bullies have always beaten him up, or laughed at him. But this John lad, he seems good. He seems like he could protect Sherlock, keep him sane. Mycroft reads his book and leans on Gregory, happy with the thought of his little brother's safety.


End file.
